


Rolling in the Deep

by Ebyru



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Infidelity, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Slash, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:38:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha has a thing for men with loose hips. And intoxicating smiles. Or maybe he just can’t resist Jensen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rolling in the Deep

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta’d, and of course inspired by the MishaJensen panel at Jibcon2013.  
> Please let me know if you find any terrible mistakes.
> 
> *First time attempting Cockles; although, I've been a fan for a long time.  
> Let me know if the characterizations are decent.

Jensen’s been growing his beard in, turning into a beautifully content husband and soon-to-be father. He’s also been making it increasingly hard (no pun intended) for Misha to fall asleep without his mind slipping away to Hot Co-worker Fantasy Land.

That being said, Misha _knows_ Jensen. He knows he’s faithful, a homebody, hilariously spontaneous, and comfortable with the man he is now. And that’s just it: anyone who fits right in their skin - can look at themselves in the mirror, see the flaws and not be bothered by them - is automatically someone everyone dreams about jumping in the sack with.

Humanity has a collaborative failing, you see, and it’s called _insecurity_.

But, in spite of what Misha knows – which is in direct proportion with how much he wants to rattle Jensen’s bones – he can’t help what he _feels_. This leads us to now—

 

Misha’s hotel room bed is big enough for three people at least; he always asks for more space in case his wife wants to come along with him. This time, however, she decided to focus on some writing instead. It’s not a problem—in fact, it’s just right. More room for him to stretch out his limbs like a starfish, groaning at how good it feels to be lying down against clean sheets at last.

Feeling a pulling in the back of his thighs from having paced the stage so many times, Misha decides a little relaxation is in order. And since his wife’s not around, well…

He pushes his pants just past his knees, too lazy to slide them off all the way. He’s dragging the palm of his hand against the bulge in his black briefs, working up a nice, easy feeling. A gently rising tension in the pit of his stomach. Sometimes taking it slow, letting his orgasm surprise him when it comes, is the best solution to aches and pains.

His fingers trace the outline of his hardening length, his breaths coming slightly quicker now. Closing his eyes, Misha takes in a deep breath, sighing out relief and, suddenly, Jensen’s name. He startles and sits up, leaning against the bedframe.

It’s like falling out of an open window on the tenth floor; that’s how fast his heart is banging against his ribs. He scrubs a hand over his face, groaning into his knuckles, and scratching his cheek. He wasn’t planning to fantasize about Jensen tonight; he was going to just let himself go. And then that happened.

“I swear he was put on this earth to ruin lives,” Misha grumbles up at the ceiling --where Jensen’s room happens to be.

 _Don’t get any funny ideas,_ he thinks, rubbing at his eyes.

“I’ll just watch a movie, I guess,” he says, reaching for the remote.

 

The hotel phone rings.

“Hello?”

 _“Hey, Mish,”_ says Jensen. _“How’s it going?_

Misha is instantly at full attention, propping himself up against the headboard. “Um, not much,” he says, glancing down at his half naked state. This is not a good idea—

 _“Am I disturbing you or something?”_ he asks Misha.

Misha bites into his lip, hoping the pain will distract him from the things Jensen’s voice is doing to _what was_ a flagging erection. “Yes, actually. I’m in the middle of preparing a Powerpoint presentation on how to rule the world.”

Jensen laughs, and says, _“Yeah? What’s the first step?”_

It’s just – just so unfair that Jensen sounds that tempting over the phone. His hand is sliding down his spread thighs before he can help himself. “Be named Misha,” says Misha teasingly.

 _“Guess I can’t rule the world then,”_ Jensen says, the smile audible in his voice. _“How’d you like it today?”_

“Not enough nudity,” he says without thinking. He crinkles his nose, his fingers already stretching underneath the elastic his briefs. “I was hoping for a record-breaking orgy.”

There’s shuffling, and then squeaking of springs. _“Ah, that’s better.”_

“Where are you?” Misha asks, griping the base of his cock firmly in one hand. He holds back the hum that’s begging to break free.

 _“In my room. Where else would I be, Mish_?” Jensen says, rustling something on his end. _“I just ate and I’m starving again. I wonder if the pregnancy’s affecting me too.”_

Misha swallows another betraying noise, clearing his throat. “Maybe. Didn’t really happen to me though.”

 _“You okay? You sound kind of strange,”_ says Jensen, munching on chips most likely.

“I’m always strange, remember?” Misha says, stroking from base to tip while he waits for Jensen to answer.

 _“Dude, what_ are _you doing?”_ he asks. _“I swear you sound distracted.”_

“Just tired.” He spreads his legs wider, planting his feet on the bed. Pushing the elastic band to sit underneath his balls, he strokes himself fully. He sucks in a tiny breath before saying, “How’s things for you?”

 _“Great,”_ he says easily. _“I had a lot of fun with you today.”_ He chuckles. _“Actually, I was calling to ask if you wanted to have breakfast together tomorrow.”_

Misha is nodding like a lunatic, his eyes squeezed as tight as the tugging he feels in his balls. “Yeah, yes.” His voice cracks. “Sure thing,” he finishes in a croak.

 _“Are you getting sick_?” asks Jensen.

A manic laugh falls out of him, and he tries to cover it with a cough that turns into a groan. “Oh _god_ ,” he says, sucking in a painful breath. “Sorry, I think I should --”

 _“Wait a second, Mish,”_ he says, his voice dipping into a lower register. He breathes against the receiver a couple of times, during which Misha strokes his cock like he’s going mad (which he probably is; Jensen’s voice is like an intravenous injection of lust).

“Y-yeah?” Misha prompts, holding his breath when a helpless moan tries to break out again. He chews on his lip, his fingers wrapped around the head of his cock, stroking, stroking, pressing against nerve endings that won’t stop tingling.

  
 _“Let me hear you,”_ Jensen tells him at last.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Misha says, panting out loud. His palm is slick with non-stop pre-come, sliding and slipping through his fingers, his hips stuttering up into the circle as he pictures Jensen’s perfectly plush lips. “Oh, fuck, Jen, I’m so close.”

 _“Yeah, I could hear it,”_ growls Jensen. _“Why were you hiding it? I could have told you how much I want to wrap my lips around your dick. How it keeps me up at night thinking about chapped lips and blue eyes.”_

Misha groans, hitting his head against the wall repeatedly, thrusting into his hand like he’ll die without release. “Fuck, your lips, Jen. Your hips, when you were dancing--” he pants, licking his lips and trying to remember how to breathe.

 _“I knew you liked that. I also felt your hand graze my jeans,”_ Jensen says. _“You should have got a good handful and squeezed.”_

It’s like riding on top of a bullet train; jumping out of a plane; crossing the finish line of what seemed to be an endless marathon. Misha is coming with a loud _Fuck me, Jen_ wrenched from his swollen lips, his come spurting out in jets across his hips and thighs. His fingers are sticky, but also buzzing with arousal and excitement.

 _“You all right there?”_ asks Jensen, laughing. _“That sounded pretty insane.”_

“Never been better,” breathes Misha. He hums, drawing a soiled finger into his mouth _._ “When’s it your turn?”

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated. :)


End file.
